


Make Your Plans

by farfarawaygirl



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: F/M, Falling in love and making plans, Flowers, Wedding Feels, you terrify me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfarawaygirl/pseuds/farfarawaygirl
Summary: Matt sits on Sylvie’s couch and waits. He hears the water stop running, and the the sound of a blow dryer kicking in. He still waits. It been almost an hour of him sitting on the couch, nervously jostling his leg. He’s almost made his mind up to leave, when he door opens and she walks out. Bare faced, haired freshly dried, wearing sleep shorts with doughnuts on them, and an oversized CFD sweatshirt he recognizes as once belonging to Peter Mills that nearly covers the shorts. Then there are the miles of her pale legs. Toned from her spin class, glossy from the mango scented lotion she has just applied.“Matt!” She starts, one hand flying to her throat, taking a half step back. “Did I know you were coming over?” She steps forward. “Is everything okay?”
Relationships: Sylvie Brett & Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett/Matthew Casey
Comments: 12
Kudos: 152





	Make Your Plans

**Author's Note:**

> I’m kinda glad to see Foster go?
> 
> As always, I didn’t really edit? So, enjoy the typos! They add depth.
> 
> Can’t wait for season 9!

Matthew Casey did not particularly consider himself a sentimental man. Some of that was just who he was. Some of that was circumstance; you don’t lose your childhood home after your dad is shot, and your mom is in jail and wind up really wanting to keep stuff. Adding to that was the fact that his apartment and almost all of his belongings had burned down last year, and, well, he had his memories. Even if the things themselves were gone. 

Which was why it was weird that he was holding onto this flower. It had been part of Sylvie’s wedding bouquet at Cruz and Chloe’s wedding, one of the dusty purple roses that she had carried down the aisle. She had held that bouquet as they posed side by side for pictures, and it had sat in the table in front of them while they ate. As the night had started to wind down the Herrmann offspring had settled around her. 

Lee Henry because he was obviously crushing on her, If Matt was being honest he suspected that was why Luke and Max were there as well. Hell, Kenny thought she hung the moon. But it was Annabelle who put the wheels in motion that resulted in him taking the flower home. 

Annabelle Herrmann was always glad when there was an other girl around. She was especially glad when it was Sylvie, because Sylvie listened to her, and sometimes braided her hair. Also, Sylvie had once given her an extra scoop of ice cream at a picnic, so in a way she had sealed her own fate years ago. 

Kenny was sitting in Sylvie lap, picking at a piece of cake, Lee Henry and Luke had taken over the seats beside Sylvie that an other bridesmaid had vacated when she pulled Leon up to dance. Annabelle was hovering between Sylvie and Matt, drinking her fruit punch with her pinky finger sticking out. 

“I think you look like a princess.”

This makes Sylvie laugh, full belly tip her back and laugh, Matt has the sudden desire to rest his face in her neck. 

“I think you look like a princess.” Sylvie replies, “I mean, look at your shoes.”

Annabelle sticks out her left foot, leaning on Casey for support, when they’re done admiring her shoes, she turns back to Sylvie. 

“Seriously Sylvie. We were learning about Princesses in school, and you look like you could be a princess in Sweden! Like Elsa.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Kenny and Annabelle lean in close, Matt not far behind. “I used to want to a princess.”

Kenny squints you at her, chocolate on his lips and chin. “Now what do you want to be?”

Sylvie considers this, and Matt watches her with rapt attention. 

“I want to be strong. And smart. And brave. Kind to the people around me, and to always help people in need.” She looks up, and smiles directly at Matt. 

“Sounds like a princess to me.” Matt’s words make Sylvie’s smile settle deeper in her eyes. 

“Then you must a prince. Because you are all of those things.”

Annabelle is dancing between them now, her eyes bright. “Uncle Casey’s not a prince! He’s a knight! He’s always saving people.”

“Plus,” Kenny insists, “every knight needs a princess.”

A waiter comes over to refill their water glasses, and in the shuffle and movement Cindy calls Annabelle and Kenny back over. When the moment settles Matt’s just grinning at Sylvie. 

“Doesn’t matter who your parents are, you were always going to be a princess.”

That head tilted back laugh is back. God, he loves making her laugh. 

Plucking the dusty purple rose from her bouquet, Sylvie tucks it into the breast pocket of his jacket. “Than that’s for my knight in turn out gear.” 

Matt is gearing up the courage to ask her to dance when Luke beats him to it. 

“Sylvie! You have to dance this one with me!” Sylvie let’s him lead her off to the dance floor, shuffling with him to Ed Sheehan, radiant under the lights. Absently Matt fingers the purple rose. 

He had still had when he gotten home, a little crushed, but still purple and fragrant. Without giving it much thought he had tucked it into the Fireman Manual he was reviewing. And now, weeks later he was finding it. That night came back him so very clearly. The way she had looked in that dress. The pressure of her hand on his elbow. Her face when Cruz and Chloe were exchanging vows. 

Most things about Sylvie were clear to him. 

Her smile. Her eyes. Her optimism. 

The smell of her perfume. 

Matt looked down at the rose, powdery a little at the edges, and brought it to his lips. Kissing it once, he tucked it back into the thick book and got up from his desk. 

His room was sparse. He didn’t have much. But he had kept that rose. Clearly, that meant something. 

Suddenly Matt knew what he had to do, who he had to see. Almost on autopilot he left the loft, drove and parked his car. Waited patiently on the elevator and knocked. 

Foster answered, dressed for a night on the town. “Oh. Captain?”

“Is Brett here?”

“Yeah, she just in the shower.”

“I’ll come back.”

“Wait!” Foster snagged just elbow as he turned to leave, hefting him over the threshold and into the apartment. “Just wait. I’m heading out, but you should talk to her.”

Overwhelmed by the reason he came here, and the wrong person answering the door, Matt is easily pulled into the apartment. Foster pushes him towards the couch. She’s pulling on her shoes, light blue heels so high Matt wonders how anyone can walk in them. 

“You are going to tell her, right?”

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

Foster perches in the arm of the couch, “that’s why your here at 9pm isn’t it? To tell her how you feel?”

Embarrassment floods Matt chest, turns his skin scarlet. “I, I don’t know...”

“Bullshit.” Foster cuts him off, efficiently snapping on a bracelet, “we all know how you feel about one Sylvie Brett. Everyone but Sylvie. God, your both so obtuse you deserve each other.”

“I didn’t want to put more on her plate.”

“Captain. Casey,” Foster is firm as she stands up, “the one thing Sylvie needs these days is a strong, loving partner to come alongside her.” She is shrugging in a jacket. “If you can do that, wait here. If not,” her eyes narrow, “I’ll cancel my Lyft and you can drive me downtown.”

“I can.”

“Thank God.” The door is opening and Foster is halfway out, “I’m not planning to come back! Enjoy.”

Matt sits on Sylvie’s couch and waits. He hears the water stop running, and the the sound of a blow dryer kicking in. He still waits. It been almost an hour of him sitting on the couch, nervously jostling his leg. He’s almost made his mind up to leave, when he door opens and she walks out. Bare faced, haired freshly dried, wearing sleep shorts with doughnuts on them, and an oversized CFD sweatshirt he recognizes as once belonging to Peter Mills that nearly covers the shorts. Then there are the miles of her pale legs. Toned from her spin class, glossy from the mango scented lotion she has just applied. 

“Matt!” She starts, one hand flying to her throat, taking a half step back. “Did I know you were coming over?” She steps forward. “Is everything okay?”

Matt is dumbfounded. Sitting there mutely, staring up at Sylvie. God, she’s beautiful. How did it take him so long to realize? How could he have looked at her almost everyday for the past year and not acted on it?

Sylvie’s voice pitches higher, and she’s suddenly right in front of him. “Are you okay? What happened?” Her hands land on his shoulders, sliding up his neck and cradling his head. If he wanted Matt thinks he could count every individual eye lash. 

“Matt?” Her voice is half concern, half laughter. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” He reaches up and takes her wrists in his hands, marvels at the smoothness of her skin, at the nearness of her. 

Her smile is achingly familiar. 

She reapers her earlier question, still standing between his legs, “did I know you were coming over?”

Now that he is her apartment, with her in front of him, it all seems so easy. 

“Sylvie.” Matt stands up, which forces him and Sylvie incredibly close together. He’s still holding her wrists, and lets them fall between them, sliding his hands around until they are clasping her fingers, faces inches apart. “Sylvie.” Confused, her eyes flick from his eyes down to his lips and back up, the faintest hint of pink blooming on her cheeks. Still clasping her hand Matt reaches behind her, and pulls her closer, flush against him. 

“Matt.”

“I found that rose. From the wedding.” At her crinkled brow Matt elaborates, “the one you stuck in my pocket.”

“You kept it?”

“I kept it.” Matt watches as she presses her lips together, the hint of a smile growing. “And I realized...” she’s moved one of her hands to the open collar of his shirt. “Sylvie, I realized how much you mean to me.”

Sylvie is blinking up at him. 

“I love you.” Matt wasn’t even really aware of the depth of his feeling until he said it. But it is true. They’ve been dancing around this for almost a year now. Since long before she got engaged to Sheffield, even since before he got shot at. She has been his true north. 

“You love me?”

He’d prefer she say it back to him, but he’ll take the wonder in her voice. 

“I am in love with you.”

“Oh.” Somehow her arms have ended up around his neck, one of them playing with hair at the base of his skull. “Since when?” He is in love with the wrinkle on her forehead. 

“Hell,” Matt takes in a breath, arms around her waist, “since at least seeing you in that silver dress at New Years.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So, What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ve got all kinds of plans.” And he does. Plans to show her, plans to tell her, plans... he hasn’t really been able to see past the hazy couple of days that form a week in so long. But, now, with Sylvie, he can see something forming. 

Sylvie’s smile is incandescent, “do any of these plans include you kissing me?”

That is just what he does, dips down a little and picks her up, kissing her smile and relishing the feel of her lips against his. Her arms around him. Really, he’s just relishing her, them, this. 

“Matt,” Sylvie is pushing at his shoulders, even as he kisses her neck. “Matt!” It’s half laughter so he’s not too worried, but he still pulls back. Sylvie slides down the front of him as he releases her, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Matt! I didn’t say it back! You didn’t give me time to say it back!”

Sylvie jumps a bit in the circle of his arms, “Matt! I love you too. I’m in love with you too!”

“Yeah?” He laughs, “since when?”

“I don’t know really, it was growing for a while, and then... boom.”

He’s kissing her again, and it’s never felt this right before. It’s never been this electric and wild. Wrapped around him, Sylvie’s arms feel safe and familiar. Comfortable and welcoming. 

“Matt,” Sylvie is tugging at him, breaking the moment, “Matt, you mean it right?”

He rests his forehead against hers, stares into her blue eyes, “I am terrified of you.” She’s looking back at him just as intently. “I’m so far gone on loving you, and so scared of losing it. Of losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” She punctuates her words with a kiss.

“Well, right back at you. You’re not going to lose me. I’m here, and I’m making plans, and I’m in it.”

There are tears gathering in her eyes, but she is smiling, and shaking in his arms. 

“I’m so ridiculously in love with you Matt Casey.”

She fits perfectly in his arms. Her head nestled in his neck. 

“I have so many plans for us, Sylvie Brett.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you liked!! 😘


End file.
